Starving Artist
by singingstarryknights
Summary: There’s a touch of Empty Nest Syndrome at 27 Harris Street. Number 32 in the Ducks in a Row Series. GregSara.


Starving Artist

…

There's a touch of Empty Nest Syndrome at 27 Harris Street.

…

Number 32 in the 'Ducks in a Row' Series

…

"Greg." Sara reached out to shake her sleeping husband gently again. "Greg, wake up." She ran a hand through her curls, and bit her bottom lip, waiting for the man before her to rouse from his sleep. "Gregory." Greg groaned softly, rolling over on the couch, and rubbing his eyes, frowning as his wife came into view.

"Mmmsleepinsar." His voice was gentle, muffled by the pillow he was probably drooling on.

"I haven't seen you in forever." Sara whined softly, as she shook him again, and he rolled over, rubbing his eyes as he started to smile. It had been just that morning, in actuality, that he had seen his wife.

"It's only been a shift, love." He chuckled as she threw him a grumpy look, and reached for her, pulling her down to him, pressing an affectionate kiss to her lips.

"I missed you. It's been more than a shift, Greg." Sara grinned mischievously, shifting over him to settle her body against his suggestively, reaching up and twirling a lock of salty golden brown hair around her finger, watching the few silvery gray strands catch the light. He kissed her again, pulling a leg out from under her and setting his foot on the carpet. She groaned softly at his movement, chuckling into their kiss as his fingertips slipped beneath the thin cotton of her oxford shirt.

"I saw you this morning." He reasoned, laughing as she took his bait, smacking him lightly.

"This morning was almost twenty hours ago, Gregory."

"Hence why I'm tired. Hence the crashing on the couch." He was teasing her, and she pulled out of his grasp, rolling her eyes. "You interrupted a really nice dream."

"Oh yeah?" She arched an eyebrow at him gracefully, sitting up and leaning against the back of the couch, her fingertips feeling the muscle along his thigh. "What was it about?"

"There was an awards night, like the Oscars or something, except they were DNA Oscars, and I was back in the lab, and I was walking down the red carpet, with this blonde thing hangin' on my arm, and- what?" He grinned up at his wife, who was fast losing interest in the prospect of making out on the couch. "Sara Jane! I'm kidding."

He was laughing again, and pulling her down a bit to meet him, catching her lips in a slow, deliberate display of affection. He sat up fully, pushing her gently on to her back, her shoulders hitting the cushions on the opposite end of the couch. He loomed over her, his hips nudged snugly against her thighs. She snaked her arms around his shoulders, returning his kiss, moaning a protest into his mouth as she felt his fingers slip beneath her shoulders. He tore away from her lips, pressing halfway hungry kisses along her neck, and collarbone, causing her head to tilt to one side, and her hips to twist up against his.

"Greg-" She smiled, threading a hand through his hair, feeling his unruly curls, still wild after so many years together. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his fingers between them, adeptly flicking open the buttons of her shirt. He leaned up, pulling her bottom lip into a tantalizing kiss, tugging and pressing, asking permission and taking it.

He leaned his weight against her, pressing her into the cushions of their old, worn, well-loved couch, causing a dull itch of pressure in her hips. He chuckled again, and the vibration of his laughter reverberated through her, only adding to the heat below her stomach. Good God, this man was going to be the death of her. Abruptly, he pulled away, ignoring her faint whimper at the loss of contact.

"What, Greg?" She frowned, his eyes darted around the room, his features falling into investigator mode. She started to sit up, but he pressed her back down. "Gregory-"

"You hear that?" He tilted his head, listening intently, and her features broke into an expression of confusion; no, she didn't hear anything at all.

"Hear what? I don't hear anything. What-"

"Exactly. Nothing." He grinned childishly at her, and she lay back down, relieved. "We have the whole house to ourselves." There was an element of awe in his voice, mixed with amusement.

She knew he meant it as an offer; a suggestion for variety and spontaneity. In the name of romance and staying young. They had joked around in the past about the extra time they had together, with Nora back to school again for her second year in Chicago. But now, the thought of her baby so far away instantly caused her eyes to water, and before she could stop it, her vision blurred with tears.

"Oh, Sara, honey I didn't mean to upset you." Greg's soft words were comfort, and Sara wiped at her eyes hastily before choking out a laugh, trying to brush off the sudden onslaught of overwhelming emotion.

"No, I just. I'm sorry, Greg, I." She sighed, relaxing against the cushions and smiling sadly. "I- my baby. She's gone. She's so far away. Greg, the house will always be empty. We have no more children left." Greg stifled a laugh, his features remaining somber. He reached up, and brushed a few tears from her cheek, then leaned in, and pressed a lingering, companionable kiss to her lips, pulling away after a few moments.

"She's not gone, Sara. She's just grown up." His words sounded serious, soothing, but his eyes sparkled suddenly, and he smiled childishly at her. "We knew it was coming." He was humoring her, and she groaned, frustrated. "Like she'd really be four years old forever."

"She _should_ be." Sara started to pout, but bit her lip instead, squirming fervently against his hips as he pressed against her.

"No thank you. Three hundred and sixty-five days of questions that begin with 'why' was enough for me." Greg caught her again, grinding softly against her, making her moan, her fingers sliding from their tight grip on his shoulders to feel the muscles dance lazily along his arms. He broke their kiss, flashing her the lopsided grin she fell in love with years and years ago. "What? You don't want to shack up in here with me for the rest of your life?"

"No, I do, I just. This is weird. We never used to do this." On top of her, Greg rolled his eyes, turning his affections to the crook of her neck.

"We used to do this all the time, Sara." She pulled him to her, crashing her lips against his, groaning hoarsely as his hip caused heated friction against her thigh. He trailed a few kisses to her ear, placing a delicate kiss along her jaw. "It's time to reclaim our youth." She broke away, arching into him, wincing from the unsettling pressure before breaking out into a raspy laugh as his fingertips traced feather light touches, making her squirm.

"Oh, honey, that's quickly fleeting." He felt her giggle beneath him, and he dropped a few more kisses to her neck before shifting lower, and leaving a trail of affection along the top edge of her bra. He placed open-mouthed kisses on her bare skin, groaning as she whimpered, squirming against him. He dropped a few more, the feeling of her fingers tangled in his hair abruptly turning him on.

"We had a late start, yeah, but now I think we can just make up for it." His smile told her he was humoring her, but the glint in his eyes told her he loved their life. "Besides. Our little girl is off becoming a starving artist. Who are we to get in the way of all that glory?" The husky quality of his voice made an offer as to how this was going to end. She chuckled, pulling him up to her again, kissing him fiercely.

God she loved this man.

………

A/N: Just a little fluff… I had neglected the Ducks, and I apologize for my lack of updates. I'm hoping to finish it all off in the next week or so. ::grins::


End file.
